CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(Monographs) 


ICI\AH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


m 


Canadian  Inttituta  for  Historical  MIcroraproductions  /  inatitut  » ladian  da  microraproductiont  hit toriquaa 


996 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


D 

D 

D 

D 
D 

D 
D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couvertuie  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endummagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pellicula 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  litre  de  couverture  marique 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  geographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  init  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illusiratkms  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Relii  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  Mitk>n  disponlble 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serrde  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsk)n  le  long  de 
la  marge  int^rieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  testoraiians  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  timing  /  II  se  peut  que  ceitajnes 
pages  blanches  ajoulies  lors  d'une  reslauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  lexle,  mais,  kxsque  cela  ttait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  M  filmtes. 


L'Institut  a  microfiime  le  meilleur  examplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6te  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-6tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  m6th- 
ode  normals  de  filmage  sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 

[^      Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I     j      Pages  damaged/ Pages  endommagies 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '      Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  pelllcultes 

\y\      Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
' — '      Pages  decolorees,  tachet^es  ou  piqutes 

I     I      Pages  detached  /  Pages  ditachees 

r^t     Showlhrough/ Transparence 

I     I      Quality  of  print  varies  / 

I — I      Qualiti  in^le  de  I'impresskjn 

I     I      Includes  supplementary  material  / 

Comprend  du  matSriel  supplementaire 

I  I  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
' — '  slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  ete  filmdes 
^  nouveau  de  fa(on  k  obtenir  la  mellleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
' — '  discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  filmtes  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


D 


AddWonal  comnunts  / 
Commentaires  suppl^mentairas: 


Thii  ittffl  i<  f  ilmad  at  Iht  raduetion  ratio  chackad  bakm/ 

C«  documenl  ast  ftlmi  au  taux  da  rMuction  indtqui  ct-denout. 


10X 

14X 

1IX 

22X 

MX 

»X 

— 

■J 

ux 

liX 

XX 

2«X 

28  X 

MX 

Th*  copy  filmed  har*  hai  bMn  raproduead  thanki 
10  tha  ganarotity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
poaiibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  laglbillty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contraet  apacif Icationa. 


Original  eoplaa  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  flimad 
baginning  with  tha  front  eovar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  liluatratad  impraa- 
aion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  eopiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
f  irat  paga  with  a  printad  or  liluatratad  impraa- 
aJon,  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  liluatratad  improaaion. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  mierofleha 
ahall  contain  tha  symbol  ^»  Imaaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  ▼  Imaaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appliaa. 

Maps,  platas.  charts,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
ontiraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar.  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framaa  as 
requirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  illustrata  tha 
mathod: 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

4 

5 

L'Mamplsir*  film*  fut  raproduit  gric*  i  la 
gtntroait*  da: 

Blbllotheque  Rationale  du  Canada 


Laa  imagaa  tuivantaa  ont  ttt  raproduita*  avac  la 
plua  grand  aoin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattai*  da  I'axamplaira  filmt,  at  an 
conf  ormlM  avac  laa  conditlona  du  eontrat  da 
nimaga. 

Laa  aaamplalraa  origina<jii  dont  la  eouvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprimaa  aont  fllmto  an  commandant 
par  la  pramlar  plat  at  an  tarminant  aoit  par  la 
darnMra  paga  qui  eomporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraaaion  ou  d'illuatration,  aoit  par  la  tacond 
plat,  aalon  la  caa.  Toua  laa  autrca  axamplaira* 
orlginaus  aont  fllmta  an  commandant  par  la 
pramWra  paga  qui  eomporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'illuatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnitra  paga  qui  eomporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  aymbolaa  auivanta  apparaltra  aur  la 
darnlAra  imaga  da  ehaqua  microficha.  talon  la 
caa:  la  lymbola  -»  aignifia  "A  SUIVRE ".  la 
tymbola  ▼  aignilia  "FIN". 

Laa  eartaa.  planchaa,  tableaux,  ate,  pauvrnt  itra 
filmta  t  daa  uux  da  rMuetion  diffarantt. 
Lortqua  la  document  eat  trop  grand  pour  ttra 
raproduit  an  un  aaul  ellch*,  il  eat  film*  *  partir 
da  I'angia  auptriaur  gauche,  de  gauche  t  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  baa,  an  prenant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  ntcaaaaire.  Lea  diagrammea  tuivanti 
illuatrant  la  mMhoda. 


2 

3 

5 

6 

MICtOCOfY   RiSOlUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  ami  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


;|2j8      jUS 

^  IS 


mmtj^ 


A  /APPLIED  IIVMGE    In 

^S\i  '653    East   Moin    Street 

^^^  Rochester,  N«w  York        1*609       USA 

r.^  (716)   *82  -  0300  -  Phone 

^=  (/le)  2a8  ~  S9B9  -  Fa- 


APRIL    NOW    IN 
LIKE  AGLJ-AMING- 
Wn  H  THK  SOUTH 
COMES    TO    BID- 

WITH  THE  SUN- 
THROUGH  HER- 
APRIL  O'ER  NEW- 
TRAILS  HER  ROBE- 
VIOLET  AND  ANE- 
WHILE  ALONG- 
PI  PE  AT  LIP,  SHE- 
HAUNTING    AIRS- 


IN 

FH 
ID 


MORNING  CLAD 
OREAD, 

WIND   IN    HKR   VOICE, 

THE   WORLD   REJOICE. 


JN- 
iR- 

:w- 

BE — lOF 


LIGHT  ON    HER   HROW, 
VEIL  OE   SILVER  SHOWERS, 
ENGLAND   NOW 

WOODLAND    FLOWERS  — 


G—  TH 
IE—  SEF 
IS—  3F 


IE — ^ONE; 

E  MISTY  SEA, 
:MS  to  BLOW 
LONG   AGO. 


i  1 


APRIL  AIRS 


By  Bliss  Carman  and 
Richard  Hoviy 

Songs  from  Vagabondia 
Hon  Songs  from  VagtUwndUt 
Last  Songs  from  Vagabemtia 
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mail,  S105;  wld  acparatcly 
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By  Buss  Carman 

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PtmLISHBD  BV 

SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

B03T01t 


APRIL  AIRS 

A  Book  of  New  England  Lyrics 
BLISS   CARMAN 


;  by 
net; 


ntn 
nail, 


;  by 


tiJM 

tl.« 


paid 

ents, 


Lost 
nore 


BOSTON 

SMALL,   MAYNARD  AND   COMPANY 

MCMXVI 


D'    ■"-  i-. 


atv 


262643 


Copyright,  1916 
Br  Small,  Maynard  and  Company 

(iNCOftrOKATBO) 


• 


THE  VNTVEBSITY  PRESS,  CAMBSIDCE,  D.S.A. 


TO  THE 

ELIZABETHAN  CLUB  OF  YALE  CNTVERSITY 

WITH  SINCERE  APPRECIATION 

THESE  VERSES  ARE  RESPECTFULLY 

DEDICATED 


CONTENTS 

THE   DESERTED  PASTURE 
THE   OLD  GRAY  WALL 
BLOODROOT 
EARTH   VOICES 
NOW   IS   THE  TIME   OF  YEAR 
NOW  THE  LILAC  TREE  's  IN  BUD 
THE  REDWING 
AN  APRIL  MORNING 
THE  SOUL  OF  APRIL 
THE  RAINBIRD 
LAMENT 

THRENODY  FOR  A  POET 
UNDER   THE   APRIL  MOON 
SPRING  NIGHT 
IK  EARLY  MAY 
FIREFLIES 

THE  GARDEN   OF  DREAMS 
GARDEN  SHADOWS 
GARDEN  MAGIC 
A  NEW   ENGLAND  JUNE 
ROADSIDE  FLOWERS 
THE  GARDEN  OF  SAINT  ROSE 
SONGS  OF  THE  GRASJ: 
I-   ON  THE  DUNES 
I-   LORD  OF  MORNING 
3-    THE   TRAVELLER 
THE  WEED'S  COUNSEL 
LOCKERBIE  STREET 
A  PORTRAIT 
A  REMEMBRANCE 
OFF  MONOMOY 
THE  WORLD  VOICE 
PHI  BETA  KAPPA  POEM 


I 

3 

3 

4 
7 
8 

9 

10 

II 
la 
»3 
"3 
14 
>S 

\i 

'7 
i8 
'9 

20 
22 
23 

2S 

26 
26 

29 
31 
32 

33 
36 
36 


A  MOUNTAIN  GATEWAY 

THE   HOMESTEAD 

AT   SUNRISE 

AT  TWILIGHT 

NIGHT  LYRIC 

WEATHER  OF  THE  SOUL 

WOODLAND   RAIN 

THE  TENT   OF   NOON 

SUMMER   STORM 

DANCE   OF   THE    SUNBEAMS 

THE   CAMFFIRE   OF   THE   SUN 

MOONRISE 

THE  QUEEN  OF  NIGHT 

SUMMER   STREAMS 

THE  GOD  OF  THE  WOOD 

THE  GIFT 

THE  GIVERS   OF   LIFE 

IN  THE  DAY  OF  BATTLE 

PEACE 

TREES 

IN  OCTOBER 

A  FIRESIDE  VISION 

THE  BLUE  HERON 

A  WINTER   PIECE 

THE  GHOST-YARD  OF  THE  GOLDENROD 

BEFORE  THE   SNOW 

WINTER   TWILIGHT 

A  CHRISTMAS   EVE  CHORAL 

THE   SENDING   OF  THE   MAGI 

CHRISTMAS  SONG 

WINTER  STREAMS 


43 
♦I 
47 

*f 

48 

SO 
SI 
5» 

S2 

S3 

S4 
S4 

fl 

? 

67 

68 
68 

§ 

70 

76 


viii 


43 

4; 

46 
47 
48 
48 
50 
SI 
52 
52 
53 
54 
54 

II 
57 
58 
63 
63 
64 
65 
66 
67 
68 
68 

69 

70 


76 


APRIL  AIRS 


' 


^    ; 


'^"^T?n?,l\^*^^   PASTURE. 
I     Sy ^  "'*  *'°°y  pasture 
Tu      ./'  "°  °"*  «'se  will  have. 

In  tranquil  contemplation 
It  watches  through  the  year 
See'ig  the  frosty  stars  arise,' 
1  ne  slender  moons  appear. 

Its  music  is  the  rain-wind. 
Its  choristers  the  birds, 
And  there  are  secrets  in  its  heart 
Too  wonderful  for  words. 

It  keeps  the  bright-eyed  creatures 
I  hat  play  about  its  walls, 
Though  fone  aeo  its  millcing  herds 
Were  banished  from  their  staUs. 

Only  the  children  come  there. 
For  buttercups  in  May, 
Or  nuts  in  autumn,  where  it  lies 
Dreaming  the  hours  away. 

Long  since  its  strength  was  given 
Jo  makin|;  good  increase, 
And  now  its  soul  is  turned  again 
To  beauty  and  to  peace. 

There  in  the  early  springtime 
The  violets  are  blue. 
And  adder-tongues  in  coats  of  ffold 
Are  garmented  anew.  * 


i  1 


Tht         There  bayberry  and  aster 
Dttrrui    A.g  crowded  on  its  floors, 
f"*^-    When  marching  summer  halts  to  praise 
The  Lord  of  Out-of-doors. 

And  there  October  passes 
In  gorgeous  livery,— 
In  purple  ash,  and  cnmson  oak, 
And  golden  tulip  tree. 

And  "-.iien  the  winds  of  winter 
Their  bugle  blasts  begin. 
The  snowy  hosts  of  heaven  arrive 
To  pitch  their  tents  therein. 


THE  OLD  GRAY  WALL. 

TIME  out  of  mind  I  have  stood 
Fronting  the  frost  and  the  sun. 
That  the  dream  of  the  world  might  endure, 
And  the  goodly  will  be  done. 

Did  the  hand  of  the  builder  guess. 
As  he  laid  me  stone  by  stone, 
A  heart  in  the  granite  lurked. 
Patient  and  fond  as  his  own? 

Lovers  have  leaned  on  me 
Under  the  summer  moon. 
And  mowers  laughed  in  my  shade 
In  the  harvest  heat  at  noon. 


xl 

sun, 
;ht  endure, 


IS, 


de 


Children  roving  tlie  fields  r*,  ow 

Witli  early  flowers  in  spring,  ''"'''  '*''"• 

Old  men  turning  to  look, 
When  they  heard  a  bluebird  sing. 

And  travellers  along  the  road 
From  rising  to  setting  sun, 
Have  seen,  yet  imagined  not 
The  kindnesb  they  gazed  upon. 

Ah,  when  will  ye  underscand, 

Mortals,  — nor  deem  it  odd, 

Who  rests  on  this  old  gray  wall 
Lays  a  hand  on  the   houlder  of  God  I 


BLOODROOT. 

WHEN  April  winds  arrive 
And  the  soft  rains  are  here, 
bome  morning  by  the  roadside 
These  gipsy  folk  appear. 

We  never  see  their  coming. 
However  sharp  our  eyes; 
Each  year  as  if  by  magic 
They  take  us  by  surpnse. 

Alone  the  ragged  woodside 
And  by  the  green  spring-run, 
Their  small  white  heads  are  nodding 
And  twinkling  in  the  sun. 


Bltcdrtt. 


11 


They  crowd  across  the  meadow 
In  innocence  and  mirth, 
As  i{  there  were  no  sorrow 
In  all  the  lovely  earth- 
So  frail,  so  unregarded,  — 
And  yet  about  them  chng» 
That  exquisite  perfection, 
The  soul  of  common  things ! 

Think  you  the  sprirging  pastures 
Their  starry  vigil  kept. 
To  hear  along  the  midnight 
Some  message,  while  we  slept? 

How  else  should  spring  requicken 
Such  glory  in  the  sod  ? 
I  guess  that  trail  of  beauty 
Is  where  the  ange)  Uod. 


EARTH  VOICES. 

I  HEARD  the  spring  wind  whisper 
Above  the  brushwood  fire, 
"  The  world  is  made  forever 
Of  transport  and  desire. 

"  I  am  the  breath  of  being. 
The  primal  urge  of  things ; 
1  am  the  whirlof  star  dust, 
I  am  the  lift  of  wings. 
4 


I  am  the  splendid  impulse  F.arH 

That  comes  before  the  thought,  '''••"•■ 

The  joy  and  exaltation 
Wherein  the  life  is  caught. 

"Across  the  sleeping  furrows 
I  call  the  buried  seed, 
And  blade  and  bud  and  blossom 
Awaken  at  my  need. 

"  Within  the  dying  ashes 
I  blow  the  sacred  sparic, 
And  make  the  hearts  of  lovers 
To  leap  against  the  dark." 

II 
I  heard  the  spring  light  whisper 
Above  the  dancing  stream. 
"  The  world  is  made  forever 
In  likeness  ci  a  dream. 

"I  am  the  law  of  planets, 
I  am  the  guide  of  man  j 
The  evenmg  and  the  morning 
Are  fashioned  to  my  plan. 

"  I  tint  the  dawn  with  crimson, 
I  tinge  the  sea  with  blue; 
My  track  is  in  the  desert. 
My  trail  is  in  the  dew. 

"  I  paint  the  hills  with  color, 
And  in  my  magic  dome 
I  light  the  star  of  evening 
To  steer  the  traveller  home. 


E,rtk  "  Within  the  home  of  being, 

VIM.         1  feed  the  lamp  of  truth 

With  talcs  of  ancient  wisdom 
And  propheciea  of  youth. 

Ill 
I  heard  the  spring  rain  -lurmur 
Above  the  roadside  flower, 
•'  The  world  is  made  forever 
In  melody  and  power. 

"  I  keep  the  rhythmic  measure 
That  marks  the  steps  of  time, 
And  all  my  toil  is  fashioned 
To  symmetry  and  rhyme. 

« I  plow  the  untilled  upUnd, 
I  ripe  the  seeding  grass, 
And  fiU  the  leafy  forest 
With  music  as  I  pass. 

•'  1  hew  the  raw  rough  granite 
To  loveliness  of  line,       . 
And  when  my  work  is  finished. 
Behold,  it  is  divine  I 

"  I  am  the  master-builder 
In  whom  the  ages  '.rust. 
I  lift  the  lost  perfection      _^ 
To  blossom  firom  the  dust. 
6 


IV 
Then  Earth  to  them  made  answer. 
As  with  a  slow  refrain 
Born  of  the  blended  voices 
Of  wind  and  sun  and  rain, 

"This  is  the  law  of  being 
That  linlcs  the  threefold  chain: 
The  life  we  give  to  beauty 
Returns  to  us  again." 


Karik 

Vaitn. 


NOW  IS  THE  TIME   OF  YEAR. 
lyrOW  IS  the  time  of  year 
-jl     When  all  the  flutes  begin,— 
The  redwmt  .old  and  clear. 
The  rainbird  far  and  thin. 

In  all  the  waking  lands 
There 's  not  a  wilding  thing 
But  knows  and  understands 
The  burden  of  the  spring. 

Now  every  voice  alive 
By  rocky  wood  and  stream 
Is  lifted  to  revive 
The  ecstasy,  the  dream. 

For  Nature,  never  old. 
But  busy  as  of  yore, 
From  sun  and  rain  and  mould 
Is  making  spring  once  more. 

7 


'I 


Nmi  is  tkt      She  sounds  her  magic  note 
^'"""■^ *'""'■  By  river-marge  and  hill, 

And  every  woodland  throat 
Re-echoes  with  a  thrill. 


O  mother  of  our  days, 
Hearing  thy  music  call, 
Teach  us  to  know  thy  ways 
And  fear  no  more  at  all  1 


BUE 


NOW  THE   LILAC  TREE'S    IN 

NOW  the  lilac  tree 's  in  bud. 
And  the  morning  birds  are  loud, 
Now  a  stirring  in  the  mood 
Moves  the  heart  of  every  crowd. 


Word  has  gone  abroad  somewhere 
Of  a  great  impending  change. 
There 's  a  message  in  the  air 
Of  an  import  glad  ard  strange. 


I 


Not  an  idler  in  the  street, 
But  is  better  off  to-day. 
Not  a  traveller  you  meet. 
But  has  somethmg  wise  to  say. 

Now  there 's  not  a  road  too  long, 
Not  a  day  that  is  not  good, 
Not  a  mile  but  hears  a  song 
Lifted  from  the  misty  wood. 
8 


Wi?h  fh.    *  ''■""  "*'•'  »"d  shine 
With  the  scarlet  on  his  coat. 

Now  the  winds  are  soft  with  rain 
And  the  twilight  has  a  spel,  "'"• 

"r  witn  olden  sorrows  dwell  ? 


Mm  tAt  Lilac 


1    IN   BUD. 

ud, 

i  are  loud. 

wd. 
where 


ong, 


THE   REDWING. 

I  "n„^^  ^°\  ^toihftr,  I  hear  you. 

bpnngmg  your  woodland  whistle 
To  herald  the  April  pomp! 

Firet  of  the  moving  vaneuard 

Wh™e"fl°old''rP'^"Sy°"'°'^«. 
AnH  I!    ^''^.'^  **'"«  sparkle 
And  streams  m  the  twilight  hum. 

You  sound  the  note  of  the  chorus 

By  meadow  and  woodland  pond" 
Til),  one  after  one  up-pipi„g,      ' 

A  myriad  throats  respSnd 

I  see  you,  Brother,  I  see  vou 
S'"?f,arietunder'yourwC, 
Flash  through  the  riddy  mafles 

Leading  the  pageant  o/spring' 


Tii4  Rtdr   Earth  has  put  off  her  raiment 
winf.        Wintry  and  worn  and  old, 

For  the  robe  of  a  fair  young  sibyl, 
Dancing  in  green  and  gold. 

I  heed  you.  Brother.    To-morrow 
I,  too,  in  the  great  employ. 
Will  shed  my  old  coat  of  sorrow 
For  a  brand-new  garment  of  joy. 


AN   APRIL  MORNING. 

ONCE  more  in  misted  April 
The  world  is  growing  green. 
Along  the  winding  nver 
The  plumey  willows  lean. 

Beyond  the  sweeping  meadows 
The  looming  mountains  rise. 
Like  battlements  of  dreamland 
Against  the  brooding  skies. 

In  every  wooded  valley 
The  buds  are  breaking  through. 
As  though  the  heart  of  all  things 
No  languor  ever  knew. 

The  golden-wings  and  bluebirds 
Call  to  their  heavenly  choirs. 
The  pines  are  blued  and  drifted 
With  smoke  of  brushwood  fires. 


ibyl, 


Where  little  breezel  run, 
The  golden  daffodillies 
Are  blowing  in  the  sun. 


^n  April 


oy. 


ril 

green. 


lings 


irds 


Eted 
ires. 


THESOUL  OF  APRIL 

QVER  the  wintry  threshold 
vv    Who  comes  with  iov  to^av 
So  frail,  yet  so  enduring    '  ^' 

To  triumph  o'er  dismay : 

f  Kl^'flj  .her  tears  are  sprinrins 
And  quickly  they  are  dried,^    ^' 

But  gladness  walks  besid-. 

She  comes  with  gusts  of  laughter  - 
The  music  as  of  rills ;  ^       ' 

With  tenderness  and  sweetness  — 
The  wisdom  of  the  hills.  ' 

Her  hands  are  strong  to  comfort. 
Her  heart  is  quick  to  heed.  ' 

Shek^r'!l;^''?""°'=*dness, 
She  knows  the  voice  of  need. 

There  is  no  living  creature. 

However  poor  or  small. 

But  she  will  know  its  trouble 
And  hasten  to  its  call.  ' 

II 


.\\ 


■I 


Tlu  Sni   Oh,  well  they  fare  forever, 
rfAtrU.    By  mighty  dreams  possessed, 

Whose  hearts  have  lain  a  moment 

On  that  eternal  breast 


! 


THE  RAiNBIRD.  . 

I  HEAR  a  rainbird  smgine 
Far  off.     How  fine  and  clear 
His  plaintive  voice  comes  ringing 
With  rapture  to  the  ear ! 

Over  the  misty  wood-lots, 
Across  the  first  spring  heat. 
Comes  the  enchanted  cadence, 
So  clear,  so  solemn-sweet. 

How  often  I  have  hearkened 
To  that  high  pealing  stram 
Across  wild  cedar  barrens. 
Under  the  soft  gray  rain ! 

How  often  I  have  wondered. 
And  longed  in  vain  to  know 
The  source  of  that  enchantment. 
That  touch  of  human  woe ! 

O  brother,  who  first  taught  thee 
To  haunt  the  teeming  spring 
With  that  sad  mortal  wisdom 
Which  only  age  can  bring  ? 


at 


LAMENT. 

WHEN  you  hear  the  white-throat  pealing 
!•  rom  a  tree-top  far  away. 
And  the  hills  are  touched  with  purple 
At  the  borders  of  the  day  ; 

When  the  redwing  sounds  his  whistle 
At  the  coming  on  of  spring, 
And  the  joyous  April  pipers 
Make  the  alder  marshes  ring; 

When  the  wild  new  breath  of  being 
V,  hispers  to  the  world  once  more. 
And  before  the  shrine  of  beauty 
Every  spirit  —ist  adore ; 

And  a  tender  deepened  mood 
Shows  the  eyes  of  the  beloved 
Like  hepaticas  in  the  wood; 

Ah,  remember,  when  to  nothing 
Save  to  love  your  heart  gives  Teed, 
And  spring  takes  you  toiler  bosom,— 
ao  It  was  with  Golden  Weed ! 


t  ■' 


;nt. 


THRENODY   FOR  A  POET. 

NOT  in  the  ancient  abbey, 
_   Nor  in  the  city  ground, 
Not  m  the  lonely  mountains, 
Nor  in  the  blue  profound, 
Lay  him  to  rest  when  his  time  is  come 
And  the  smiling  mortal  lips  are  dumb ; 
'3 


Thrmody  But  here  in  the  decent  quiet 

Ma  Pet.  u„jg^  ,^g  whispering  pines, 

Where  the  dogwood  breaks  in  blossom 
And  the  peaceful  sunlight  shines, 
Where  wild  birds  sing  and  ferns  unfold, 
When  spring  comes  back  in  her  green  and  gold 

And  when  t1\at  mortal  likeness 

Has  been  dissolved  by  fire, 

Say  not  above  the  ashes, 

"  Here  ends  a  man's  desire." 

For  every  year  when  the  bluebirds  sing, 

He  shall  be  part  of  the  lyric  spring. 

Then  dreamful-hearted  lovers 

Shall  hear  in  wind  and  rain 

The  cadence  of  his  music, 

The  rhythm  of  his  refrain. 

For  he  was  a  blade  of  the  April  sod 

That  bowed  and  blew  with  the  whisper  of  God 


UNDER  THE  APRIL   MOON. 

OH,  well  the  world  is  dreaming 
Under  the  April  moon. 
Her  soul  in  love  with  beauty. 
Her  senses  all  a-swoon ! 


Pure  hangs  the  silver  crescent 
Above  the  twilight  wood, 
And  pure  the  si'—^r  music 
Wakes  from  th.  marshy  flood. 

14 


ifold, 

:en  and  gold. 


sing, 


ip«r  of  God. 


A  shadow  m  the  moonlieht  """^ 

A  murmur  in  a  dream? 

SPRING   NIGHT. 

Y\l\Z°fT^  star-sown  night, 

To  hear  the  glad  earth  sing. 

I  hear  the  brook  in  tne  wood 
Murmuring,  as  it  goes, 

nnf  T*^  °.^  ">«  ''^PPy  journey 
Only  the  wise  heart  knows.   ^ 

And  tJf*°^"'"'"  the  hill, 

n??-    K  '''f  ^^t"  watery  treble 
Of  his  brother,  silvery  shrill! 

And  then  I  wander  away 

T^f^'if ^  ""u*  ";'«'">'  forest  of  Sleeo 
To  follow  the  fairy  music  ^' 

i  o  the  shore  of  an  endless  deep 


IN  EARLY  MAY. 

r\  MY  dear,  the  world  to^av 

|rti„T^;^f,-,->--- 

Things  that  never  can  be  said. 


jSj^"^   Starry  dogwood  is  in  flower, 


Miff. 


Gleaming  tlirougli  tlie  mystic  woods. 
It  is  beauty's  perfect  hour 
In  the  wild  spring  solitudes. 
Now  the  orchards  in  full  blow 
Shed  their  petals  white  as  snow. 

All  the  air  is  honey-sweet 
With  the  lilacs  white  and  red. 
Where  the  blossoming  branches  meet 
In  an  arbor  overlead. 
And  the  laden  cherry  trees 
Murmur  with  the  hum  of  bees. 

All  the  earth  is  fairy  green, 
And  the  sunlight  filmy  gold, 
Full  of  ecstasies  unseen. 
Full  of  mysteries  untold. 
Who  would  not  be  out-of-door. 
Now  the  spring  is  here  once  more  I 


'       K 


FIREFLIES. 

THE  fireflies  across  the  dusk 
Are  flashing  signals  through  the  gloom  - 
Courageous  messengers  of  light 
That  dare  immensities  of  doom. 


About  the  seeding  meadow-grass, 
Like  busy  watchmen  in  the  street, 
They  come  and  go,  they  turn  and  pass, 
Lighting  the  way  for  Beauty's  feet. 
i6 


2'  "P. 'hey  float  on  viewless  wines 
To  twinkle  high  among  th"trees 
And  nval  with  soft  elilmerin"s  ' 
The  shming  of  the  Pleiades. 

The  stars  that  wheel  above  the  hill 
Are  not  more  wonderful  to  see 
NOT  the  great  taslts  that  thev  filfil 
More  needed  in  eternity.     ^ 


'■'"(«'«. 


■^"\^ARDEN  OF  DREAMS. 
M    wk"  "  *  garden  of  dreams 
Ffasr^r;yK'r^;''-<'»y'sdone. 
Calm  as  the  lingering  sun. 

Never  a  drouth  comes  there. 

Nor  any  frost  that  mars. 
Only  the  wind  of  love 
Under  the  early  stars, — 

^'l^.'i"''.g  breath  that  moves 
Whispering  to  and  fro, 

Of  ,hi     "S'*^*,"'  ^"^  'n  the  dusk 
Of  the  garden  long  ago. 


»7 


GARDEN   SHAD'-'WS. 

WH^N  the  dawn  winds  whisper 
To  the  standing  com, 
And  the  rose  of  morning 
From  the  dark  is  born, 
All  my  shadowy  garden 
Seems  to  grow  aware 
Of  a  fragrant  presence, 
Half  expected  there. 

In  the  golden  shimmer 
Of  the  burning  noon, 
When  the  biros  are  silent 
And  the  poppies  swoon, 
Once  more  I  behold  her 
Smile  and  turn  her  face, 
With  its  infinite  regard. 
Its  immortal  grace. 

When  the  twilight  silvers 
Every  nodding  flower, 
And  the  new  moon  hallows 
The  first  evening  hour, 
Ti  it  not  her  footfall 
Down  the  garden  walks. 
Where  the  drowsy  blossoms 
Slumber  on  their  stalks  ? 

In  the  starry  quiet. 
When  the  soul  is  free. 
And  a  vernal  message 
Stirs  the  lilac  tree, 
Surely  I  have  felt  her 
Pass  and  brush  my  cheek. 
With  the  eloquence  of  love 
That  does  not  nted  to  speak ! 
i8 


iper 


GARDEN  MAGIC. 

WITHIN  my  stone-walied  garden 
,.,,,.   .('  >«  her  standing  aow, 
UpWted  in  the  twilight, 
With  glory  on  her  brow!) 

I  love  to  walk  at  evenine 
And  watch,  when  winds  are  low. 
The  new  moon  In  the  tree-tops 
Because  she  loved  it  so !  ' 

Whuh"  «'>*'»n<=ed  I  listen, 

A^rf  lii^r?"  *'"'  ""'"<'»  confer. 
And  all  their  conversation 
Is  redolent  of  her. 

I  love  the  trees  that  guard  it, 
Upstandmg  and  serene, 
So  noble,  so  undaunted. 
Because  that  was  her  mien. 

I  love  the  brook  that  bounds  it, 
Because  its  silver  voice 

That  made  the  world  rejoice. 

I  love  the  golden  jonquns. 
Because  she  used  to  lay. 

If  Sou  could  choose  a  color 
It  would  be  clothed  as  they. 

I  love  the  blue-gray  iris, 
Because  her  eyes  were  blue, 
bea-deep  and  heaven-tender 
In  meaning  and  in  hue. 

19 


(kttdn    I  love  the  imall  wild  rottn, 
'***"■     Because  she  used  to  stand 
Adoringly  above  them 
And  bleu  them  with  her  hand. 

These  were  her  boon  companioni. 
But  more  than  all  the  rest 
I  loTc  the  April  lilac, 
Because  she  loved  it  best. 

Soul  of  undyine  rapture  I 
How  love's  enchantment  clings, 
With  sorcery  and  fragrance, 
About  familiar  things  I 


A  NEW  ENGLAND  JUNE. 
^HhSE  things  I  rtmember 
•*    Of  New  England  June, 
Like  a  vivid  day  dream 
In  the  azure  noon. 
While  one  haunting  figure 
Strays  through  every  scene, 
Like  the  soul  of  beauty 
Through  her  lost  demesne. 

Gardens  full  of  roses 
And  peonies  a-blow 
In  the  dewy  morning. 
Row  on  stately  row, 
Spreading  their  gay  patterns, 
Crimson,  pied  and  cream, 
Like  some  gorgeous  fresco 
Or  an  Eastern  dream. 


Nets  of  wavine  aunH|;ht 
Falling  through  the  trees; 
Fields  of  gold-white  daislei 
Kippling  in  the  breeze  j 
Lazy  lifting  groundswells, 
Breaking  green  as  jade 
On  tl,e  ffiac  beaches, 
Where  the  shore  birds  w«de. 

Orchards  full  of  blossom, 
Where  the  bob-white  calls 
And  the  honeysuckle 
Climbs  the  old  gray  walls: 
Groves  of  silver  birches, 
Beds  of  roadside  fern. 
In  the  stone-fenced  pasture 
At  the  river's  turn. 

Out  of  every  picture 
Still  she  comes  to  me 
fl^itA  the  morning  freshness 

Uf  the  summer  sea, 

^  glory  in  her  Searing, 
A  scii-light  in  her  eyes, 
As  if  she  could  not  forget 
The  spell  of  Paradise. 

Thrushes  in  the  deep  woods, 
With  their  golden  themes, 
Fluting  like  the  choirs 
At  the  birth  of  dreams. 
Fireflies  in  the  meadows 
At  the  gate  of  Night, 
With  tl:  'ir  fairy  lanterns 
Twlnkli.^^  soft  and  bright. 


A  .VrTff 
Jun4, 


A  If  em 

England 

June. 


Ah,  not  in  the  roses, 
Nor  the  azure  noon, 
Nor  the  thrushes'  music, 
Lies  the  soul  of  June. 
It  is  something  finer. 
More  unfading  far. 
Than  the  primrose  evening 
And  the  silver  star ; 

Something  of  the  rapture 

My  beloved  had. 

When  she  made  the  morning 

Radiant  and  glad,  — 

Something  of  her  gracious 

Ecstasy  of  mien. 

That  still  haunts  the  twilight, 

Loving  though  unseen. 

When  the  ghostly  moonlight 
fVtlks  my  garden  ground, 
IJke  a  leisurely  patrol 
On  his  nightly  round, 
These  things  I  remember 
Of  the  long  ago. 
While  the  slumbrous  roses 
Neither  care  nor  know. 


ROADSIDE   FLOWERS. 

WE  are  the  roadside  flowers. 
Straying  from  garden  grounds, 
Lovers  of  idle  hours. 
Breakers  of  ordered  bounds. 


If  only  the  earth  will  feed  us,  ;pw 

If  only  the  wind  be  kind,  f-^T::^ 

We  blossom  for  those  who  need  us. 
.     The  stragglers  left  behind.  ' 

And  lo,  the  Lord  of  the  Garden, 
He  makes  his  sun  to  rise, 
And  his  rain  to  fall  like  pardon 
On  our  dusty  paradise. 

On  us  he  has  laid  the  duty,— 
The  task  of  the  wandering  breed  _ 
L^^f'^-- 'he  world  with  leauty. 
Wherever  the  way  may  lead. 

Who  shall  inquire  of  the  season. 
Or  question  the  wind  where  it  b  ows? 
StV°T";\"d  "s"^-  no  reason. 
The  Lord  of  the  Garden  knows. 


3s,- 


■^"^^^RDEN   OF  SAINT   ROSE. 
I   ma  IS  a  holy  refuge, 
A  f„  The  garden  of  Saint  Rose, 
A  fragrant  altar  to  that  peace 
The  world  no  longer  knows. 

Below  a  solemn  hillside, 
Within  the  folding  shade 
Of  overhanging  beech  and  pine 
Its  walls  and  walks  are  laid! 

'3 


ivt'  /"^    ^°°'  ''"■°"Sh  tlie  heat  of  summer, 
Saifi       Still  as  a  sacred  grove, 
Alu*.         It  has  the  rapt  unworldly  air 
Of  mystery  and  love. 

All  day  before  its  outlook 
The  mist-blue  mountains  loom. 
And  in  its  trees  at  tranquil  dusk 
The  early  stars  will  bloom. 

Down  its  enchanted  borders 
Glad  ranks  of  color  stand, 
Like  hosts  of  silent  seraphim 
Awaiting  love's  command. 

Lovely  in  adoration 
They  wait  in  patient  line. 
Snow-white  and  purple  and  deep  gold 
About  the  rose-gold  shrine. 


And  there  they  guard  the  silence. 

While  still  from  her  recess 

Through  sun  and  shade  Sa'  nt  Rose  looks  down 

In  mellow  loveliness. 

She  seems  to  say,  "  O  stranger, 
Behold  how  loving  care 
That  gives  its  life  for  beauty's  sake, 
Makes  everything  more  fair ! 

"  Then  praise  the  Lord  of  gardens 

For  tree  and  flower  and  vine, 

And  bless  all  gardeners  who  have  wrought 

A  resting  place  like  mine  I  " 

24 


SONGS   OF  THE   GRASS. 

ON    THE  DUNES. 

UERE  all  night  on  the  dunes 
w^r-u  '" 'he  rocking  wind  we  sleep. 
Watched  by  the  sentry  stars,  ^' 

Lulled  by  the  drone  o£  the  deep. 

Till  hark,  in  the  chill  of  the  dawn 
A  field  lark  wakes  and  cries, 
And  over  the  floor  of  the  sea 
We  watch  the  round  sun  rise. 

The  world  is  washed  once  more 
»    J    .      °^  ?"■■?'«  '"id  gold, 
S?!'^*  heart  of  the  land  is  filled 
With  desires  and  dreams  untold. 

II 

LORD   OF   MORNING. 

Lord  of  morning,  light  of  day. 
Sacred  color-kiudling  sun, 
We  salute  thee  in  the  way,  — 
Pilgrims  robed  in  rose  and  dun. 

For  thou  art  a  pilgrim  too. 
Overlord  of  all  our  band. 
In  thy  fervor  we  renew 
Quests  we  do  not  understand. 

At  thy  summons  we  arise, 
At  thy  touch  put  glory  on. 
And  with  glad  unanxious  eyes 
lake  the  journey  thou  hast  gone. 

'S 


IfJ 


Scr'sef 
th*  Grau. 


Ill 

THE  TRAVELLER. 

Before  the  night-blue  fades 

And  the  stars  are  quite  gone, 

I  lift  my  head 

At  the  noiseless  tread 

Of  the  angel  of  dawn. 

I  hear  no  word,  yet  my  heart 
Is  beating  apace; 
Then  in  glory  all  still 
On  the  eastern  hill 
I  behold  his  face. 

All  day  through  the  world  he  goes, 
Making  glad,  setting  fr.t ; 
Then  his  day's  work  djne, 
On  the  galleon  sun 
He  sinks  in  the  sea. 


THE  WEED'S   COUNSEL. 

CAID  a  traveller  by  the  way 
"    Pausing,  "  IVhat  hast  thou  to  say. 
Flower  by  the  dusty  road. 
That  would  ease  a  mortaPs  loadt " 

Traveller,  hearken  unto  me ! 
I  will  tell  thee  how  to  see 
Beauties  in  the  earth  and  sky 
Hidden  from  the  careless  eye. 
I  will  tell  thee  how  to  hear 
Nature's  music  wild  and  clear,  — 
Songs  of  midday  and  of  dark 
Such  as  many  never  mark, 
Lyrics  o£  creation  sung 
Ever  since  the  world  was  young. 

26 


And  thereafter  thou  shall  know 
Neither  weariness  nor  woe. 

Thou  Shalt  see  the  dawn  unfold 
Artistries  of  rose  and  gold, 
And  the  sunbeams  on  the  sea 
Dancing  with  the  wind  for  glee 
The  red  lilies  of  the  moors 
Shall  be  torches  on  the  floors, 
Where  the  field-lark  lifts  his  cry 
To  rejoice  the  passer-by, 
In  a  wide  world  rimmed  with  blue 
Lovely  as  when  time  was  new. 

And  thereafter  thou  shall  fare 
Light  of  foot  and  free  from  care. 

I  will  teach  thee  how  to  find 
Lost  enchantments  of  the  mind 
All  about  thee,  never  guessed 
By  indifferent  unrest. 
Thy  distracted  thought  shall  learn 
Patience  from  the  rcadside  fern 
And  a  sweet  philosophy  ' 

From  the  flowering  locust  tree 

While  thy  heart  shall  not  disdain 
The  consolation  of  the  rain. 

Not  an  acre  but  shall  give 

Of  its  strength  to  help  thee  live. 

With  the  many-wintered  sun 
Shall  thy  hardy  course  be  run. 
And  the  bright  new  moon  shall  be 
A  lamp  to  thy  felicity. 

»7 


CeuHuL 


Hi' 

'M 

It 

11 'I 


Tht 

CoUHltl, 


When  green-mantled  spring  shall  come 
Past  thy  door  with  flute  and  drum, 
And  when  over  wood  and  swamp 
Autumn  trails  her  scarlet  pomp. 
No  misgiving  shalt  thou  know. 
Passing  glaa  to  rise  and  go. 


So  thy  days  shall  be  unrolled 
Like  a  wondrous  cloth  of  gold. 

When  gray  twilight  with  her  star 
Makes  a  heaven  that  is  not  far, 
Touched  with  shadows  and  with  dreams, 
Thou  shalt  hear  the  woodland  streams 
Singing  through  the  starry  night 
Holy  anthems  of  delight. 
So  the  ecstasy  of  earth 
Shall  refresh  thee  as  at  birth, 
And  thou  shalt  arise  each  mom 
Radiant  with  a  soul  reborn. 

And  this  wisdom  of  a  day 
None  shall  ever  take  away. 


What  the  secret,  what  the  clew 
The  wayfarer  must  pursue ? 
Only  one  thing  he  must  have 
Who  would  share  these  transports  brave. 
Love  within  his  heart  must  dwell 
Like  a  bubbling  roadside  well. 
For  a  spring  to  quicken  thought. 
Else  my  counsel  comes  to  naught. 
For  without  that  quickening  trust 
We  are  less  than  roadside  dust. 
28 


This,  O  traveller,  is  my  creed,  — 
All  the  wisdom  of  the  weed ! 

'nen  the  traveller  set  his  pad 
Once  more  on  his  dusty  back. 
And  trudged  on  for  many  a  mile 
Fronting  fortune  with  a  smile. 


Th, 
CouHuL 


LOCKERBIE   STREET. 

For  THE   Birthday  op  James   Whitcomb 

Riley,  October  7,  igij. 
T  OCKERBIE  STREET  is  a  litUe  street, 
J_<    Just  one  block  long; 
But  the  days  go  there  with  a  magical  air. 
The  whole  year  long.  ' 

The  sun  in  his  journey  across  the  sky 
Slows  his  car  as  he  passes  by ; 
The  sighing  wind  and  the  grieving  rain 
Change  their  tune  and  cease  to  complain: 
And  the  birds  have  a  wonderful  call  that  seems 
Like  a  street-cry  out  of  the  land  of  dreams  • 
For  there  the  real  and  the  make-believe  meet 
Time  does  not  hurry  in  Lockerbie  Street. 

Lockerbie  Street  is  a  little  street, 

Only  one  block  long; 

But  the  moonlight  there  is  strange  and  fair 

All  the  year  long, 

As  ever  it  was  in  old  romance, 

When  fairies  would  sing  and  fauns  would  dance 

Proving  this  earth  is  subject  still 

To  a  blithesome  wonder-working  Will, 

29 


ixttriit    Spreading  beauty  over  the  land, 
nit.        That  every  beholder  may  understand 

How  glory  shines  round  the  Mercy-seat. 
That  is  the  gospel  of  Lockerbie  Street. 

Lockerbie  Street  is  a  little  street, 

Only  one  block  long, 

A  little  apart,  yet  near  the  heart 

Of  the  city's  throng. 

If  you  are  a  stranger  looking  to  find 

Respite  and  cheer  for  soul  and  mind, 

AncI  have  lost  your  way,  and  would  inquire 

For  a  street  that  will  lead  to  Heart's  Desire, — 

To  a  place  where  the  spirit  is  never  old, 

And  gladness   and   love   are   worth   more  than 

gold,  — 
Ask  the  first  boy  or  girl  you  meet ! 
Everyone  knows  where  is  Lockerbie  Street. 

Lockerbie  Street  is  a  little  street, 
Only  one  block  long ; 
But  never  a  street  in  all  the  world, 
In  story  or  song. 

Is  better  beloved  by  old  and  young ; 
For  there  a  poet  has  lived  and  sung. 
Wise  as  an  angel,  glad  as  a  bird, 
Fearless  and  fond  m  every  word. 
Many  a  year.     And  if  you  would  know 
The  secret  of  joy  and  the  cure  of  woe,  — 
How  to  be  gentle  and  brave  and  sweet,  — 
Ask  your  way  to  Lockerbie  Street. 


30 


A   PORTjiAIT. 
A.   M.   M. 

B'^ "OLD  her  Sitting  in  the  sun 
This  lovely  Aprirmorn, 

A    ^T  JM '"^  "■«  ■"■«»">  of  'ife 
As  daffodils  new-born  I 

A  priestess  of  the  toiling  earth 

Yet  kindred  to  the  spheres,      ' 

A  touch  of  the  eternal  sprine 

Is  over  all  her  years. 

No  fashion  frets  her  dignity, 
Untrammeled,  debonair  • 
A  fold  of  lace  about  her  throat 
I'alls  from  her  whitening  hair. 
A  seraph  visiting  the  earth 
M  jght  wear  that  fearless  guise, 
The  heartening  regard  of  such 
AU-comprehending  eyes. 

How  comes  she  by  preeminence. 
Desired,  beloved,  revered ' 
""°''^ ''Y;,"g  pined  those  heights 
Through  ills  she  never  feared. 
A  spint  kindly  as  the  dew 
And  daring  as  a  rtame. 
With  a  distinguished,  reckless  wit 
No  eighty  years  could  tame. 

Qi,'"?"!^  °f,"'^  Spartan  strain. 

She  held  self-rule  and  sway. 

And  single-handed  braved  the  world 

And  bore  the  prize  away. 

No  task  too  humble  for  her  skill 

Nowortliy  way  too  long; 

She  filled  her  work  with  ecstasy 

And  crowned  it  with  a  song. 

31 


A  Par-      The  treasures  she  most  dearly  prizid 

'"■"■         Were  of  the  rarest  kind  — 
A  gentle  fortitude  of  soul 
And  honesty  of  mind. 
To  feed,  to  clothe,  to  teach,  to  cheer. 
To  guard  and  guide  and  save  — 
These  were  her  fine  accomplishments, 
To  these  her  best  she  gave. 

With  ringing  word  and  instant  cure 
She  draws  from  far  and  near 
The  gay,  the  witty,  the  forlorn, 
Priest,  artist,  beggar,  seer. 
(Jnhesitant  and  sure  they  come. 
Hearing  the  human  call. 
As  of  a  mighty  motherhood 
That  understands  them  all. 

Ungrudging,  v,\'^')ut  grief,  she  lives 
Each  charge"!  \'.  f;  .itial  hour. 
Holding  her  lottiness  of  aim 
With  agelessness  of  power. 
Immortal  friendship,  great  with  years ! 
She  shames  the  faltering. 
And  heartens  every  struggling  hope, 
Like  hyacinths  in  spring ! 


REMEMBRANCE. 

HERE  in  lovely  New  England 
When  s"mmer  is  come,  a  sea-tum 
Flutters  a  page  of  remembrance 
In  the  volume  of  long  ago. 

32 


Soft  is  the  wind  over  Grand  Pr^, 
Stirring  tlie  heads  of  the  grasses, 
Sweet  is  the  breath  of  the  orchards 
White  with  their  apple-blow. 

There  at  their  infinite  business 
Of  measuring  time  forever, 
Murmuring  songs  of  the  sea. 
The  great  tides  come  and  go. 

Over  the  dikes  and  the  uplands 
Wander  the  great  cloud  shadows, 
Strange  as  the  passing  of  sorrow, 
Beautiful,  solemn,  and  slow. 

For,  spreading  her  old  enchantment 
Of  tender  ineffable  wonder. 
Summer  is  there  in  the  Northland  ! 
How  should  my  heart  not  know  ? 


^  Rtmtm* 


!(' 


OFF  MONOMOY. 

HAVE  you  sailed  Nantucket  Sound 
A    J  ,  .2y,^''ghtship,  buoy,  and  bell, 
And  lain  b'.:calmed  at  noon 
On  an  oily  summer  swell  ? 


Lazily  drooped  the  sail. 
Moveless  the  pennant  hung. 
Sagging  over  the  rail 
Idle  the  main  boom  swung  j 

33 


OffMimt-  The  sea,  one  mirror  of  shine 
"*"■  A  single  breath  would  destroy, 

Save  for  the  far  low  line 
Of  treacherous  Monomoy. 

Yet  eastward  there  toward  Spain, 
What  castled  cities  rise 
From  the  Atlantic  plain, 
To  our  enchanted  eyes ! 

Turret  and  spire  and  roof 
Loomin?  out  of  the  se:^ 
Where  the  prosy  chart  gives  proof 
No  cape  nor  isle  can  be  I 

Can  a  vision  shine  so  clear 
Wherein  no  substance  dwells  ? 
One  almost  harks  to  hear 
The  sound  of  the  city's  bells. 

And  yet  no  pealing  notes 
Withm  those  belfries  be, 
Save  echoes  from  the  throats 
Of  ship-bells  lost  at  sea. 

For  none  shall  anchor  there 
Save  those  who  long  of  yore. 
When  tide  and  wind  were  fair. 
Sailed  and  came  back  no  more. 


And  none  shall  climb  the  stairs 
Within  those  ghostly  towers, 
Save  those  for  whom  sad  prayers 
Went  up  through  fateful  hours. 

34 


O  image  of  the  world. 
O  miraBB  of  the  tea, 
Cloud-buil,  and  foam-impearled 
What  .orcery  fashioned  thee?  ' 

What  architect  of  dream, 
What  painter  of  desire, 
£°"'=«'*'ed  that  fairy  scheme 
Touched  with  fantMtic  firT? 

Even  so  our  city  of  hope 
We  mortal  dreamers  rear 
Upon  the  perilous  slope 
Above  the  deep  of  fear; 

A^»t"*,''»lf-l"'<'wn  the  good 
?1  h:"'!'^:  "«'' bestows. 
For  the  feigned  beatitude 
Ofafuturenomanlcnows. 

Lord  of  the  summer  sea. 
Whose  tides  are  in  thy  hand, 
'nto  immensity 

The  vision  at  thy  command 

Fade,  now,  and  leaves  no  sign  _ 
No  hght  nor  bell  nor  buoy!- ' 
Only  the  fain*  M,  •:,,      "'' 

Ofdangerou     .    j_.n.,.. 


Of.irm^ 


H 

;'i 

I 


3S 


THE  WORLD  VOICE. 

I  HEARD  the  summer  sea 
Murmuring  to  the  shore 
Some  endless  story  of  a  wrong 
The  whole  world  must  deplore. 

I  heard  the  mountain  wind 
Conversing  with  the  trees 
Of  an  old  sorrow  of  the  hills, 
Mysterious  as  the  sea's. 

And  all  that  haunted  day 
It  seemed  that  I  could  hear 
The  echo  of  an  ancient  speech 
Ring  in  my  listening  ear. 

And  then  it  came  to  me, 

That  all  that  I  had  heard 

Was  my  own  heart  in  the  sea's  voice 

And  the  wind's  lonely  word. 


PHI   BETA  KAPPA  POEM. 

HARVARD,    I914 

SIR,  friends,  and  scholars,  we  are  here  to  serve 
A  high  occasion.     Our  New  England  wears 
All  her  unrivalled  beauty  as  of  old ; 
And  June,  with  scent  of  bayberry  and  rose 
And  song  of  orioles  —  as  she  only  comes 
By  Massachusetts  Bay  —  is  here  once  more, 
Companioning  our  f^te  of  fellowship. 

36 


Her  savor  for  the  gladdening^f  the  race. 

A^d'i^^n'.,^'  "i"  '.°"'  '^^  has  sent  forth. 
And  men  her  admiration  would  adopt 

..  <;Hn  ^  ^f?''«f  "n  'he  dusky  way.    ^  ^    ' 
Still  waitmg  for  the  spark?rom^heaven  to  fall." 

AnTthff  ^f'^i  !"■"  *!"«  of  other  day,. 

|t:^^h^«'!;-<^cslie. 
fij^.:!'=^^i;?l£age. 

A„H  T':?  °^^°"'  "O"  strangely  rare 
The  u^S  „?v'"  '^'^  ^^'^^  mfde\im''too, 

Ps%rhe»S^i7'rra&"^' 
tven  while  his  hand  encourageS  eager  youth. 

37 


I'  ! 
I 


PHiBibt 

Kappa 

Poem. 


From  such  enheartening  who  would  not  dare  to 

speak — 
Seeing  no  truth  can  be  too  small  to  serve, 
And  no  word  worthless  that  is  born  of  love  ? 
Within  the  noisy  workshop  of  the  world, 
Where  still  the  strife  is  upward  out  of  gloom, 
Men  doubt  the  value  of  high  teaching  —  cry, 
"  What  use  is  learning  ?     Man  must  have  his  will ! 
The  ^lan  of  life  alone  is  paramount ! 
Away  with  old  traditions  I    We  are  free !  " 
So  folly  mocks  at  truth  in  Freedom's  name. 
Pale  Anarchy  leads  on,  with  furious  shriek. 
Her  envious  horde  of  reckless  malcontents 
And  mad  destroyers  of  the  Commonwealth, 
While  Privilege  with  indiflference  grows  corrupt, 
Till  the  Republic  stands  in  jeopardy 
From  following  false  idols  and  ideals. 
Though  sane  men  cry  for  honesty  once  more. 
Order  and  duty  and  self-sacrifice. 

Our  world  and  all  it  holds  of  good  for  us 
Our  fathers  and  unselfish  mothers  made, 
With  noble  passion  and  enduring  toil. 
Strenuous,  frugal,  reverent,  and  elate. 
Caring  above  all  else  to  guard  and  save 
The  ampler  life  of  the  intelligence 
And  the  fine  honor  of  a  scrupulous  code  — 
Ideals  of  manhood  touched  with  the  divine. 

For  this  they  founded  these  great  schools  we 

serve, 
Harvard,  Columbia,  Princeton,  Dartmouth,  Yale, 
Amherst  and  Williams,  trusting  to  our  hands 
The  heritage  of  all  they  held  most  high, 
Possessions  of  the  spirit  and  the  mind, 
Investments  in  the  provinces  of  joy. 

38 


txplonng  all  the  bounaaries  of  TrutTi  ■^«'«- 

Eacompasse/by  the  eternal  unknown  sea-       ' 

TlV]J°'f  ""'^  '°  °'"loo''  those  lands 
The  kingdoms  of  Religion,  Science  Art 

To  rest'whh!^  Jk'^  "''°™  destiiy  allows 
10  rest  withm  those  provinces  and  serve 

Jor  wr,'„"'°?„°*  '''^?'^  ^"  '^^"  lives! 
A   J  u"??°  """'  putting  dull  ereed  asido 
And  hold  „g  fond  alle|iance  to  the  blst' 
May  dwell  there  and  ffnd  fortitude  and  V 

And  secrets  of  its  sorceries  reveT 

g^ild^^J^^^^lJ^f^^^S"-"^-^ 
Mfrsfc^byniifSe-'^-e 

».^';|ph^^rt& ' 

The  magic  of  that  universal  lore, 
Before  the  great  Mysteriarch  summoned  him 
It  was  the  doctrine  of  the  threefold  We       ""• 
The  begmning  of  the  end  of  aU  their  doubt. 
39 


!i 


PhiBita 

Kttppa 

Pmm. 


In  that  Victorian  age  it  has  become 

So  much  the  fashion  now  to  half  despise, 

Within  the  shadow  of  Cathedral  walls 

The);  had  been  schooled,  and  heard  the  mellow 

chimes 
For  Lenten  litanies  and  daily  prayers, 
With  a  mild,  eloquent,  beloved  voice 
Exhorting  to  all  virtue  and  that  peace 
Surpassing  understanding  —  casting  there 
That  "  last  enchantment  of  the  Middle  Age," 
The  spell  of  Oxford  and  her  ritual. 


So  duteous  youth  was  trained,  until  there  grew 
Restive  outreaching  in  men's  thought  to  find 
Some  certitude  beyond  the  dusk  of  faith. 
They  cried  on  mysticism  to  be  gone. 
Mazed  in  the  shadowy  princedom  of  the  soul. 

Tl   ;i  as  old  creeds  fell  round  them  into  dust, 
They  reached  through  science  to  belief  in  law. 
Made  reason  paramount  in  man,  and  guessed 
At  reigning  mind  within  the  universe. 
Piecing  the  fragments  of  a  fair  design 
With  reverent  patience  and  courageous  skill. 
They  saw  the  world  from  chaos  step  by  step, 
Under  far-seeing  guidance  and  restraint, 
Emerge  to  order  and  to  symmetry. 
As  logical  and  sure  as  music's  own. 


With  Spencer,  Darwin,  Tyndall,  and  the  rest. 
Our  band  saw  roads  of  knowledge  open  wide 
Through  the  uncharted  province  of  the  truth, 
As  on  they  fared  through  that  unfolding  world. 

40 


\i^^T  "'iy/"'"'/  no  rest-house  for  the  heart,    P*-B.,a 

No  wells  sufficient  for  the  spirit's  thirst,  '^'ff 

No  shade  nor  glory  for  the  senses  starved.  ...     ^'^^■ 

Turning  -  they  fled  by  moonlit  trails  to  seek 

1  he  magic  principality  of  Art, 

Where  loveliness  not  learning,  rules  supreme. 

They  stood  intoxicated  with  felight  before 

The  poised  unanxious  splendor  of  the  Greek; 

They  mused  upon  the  Gothic  minsters  gray 

Where  mptic  spirit  took  on  mighty  form, 

Un  il  their  prayers  to  lovely  churches  turned  — 

(Like  a  remembrance  of  the  Middle  Age 

stoneTr   "^"^    **'''''    °'    ^"'"™   '^'■""^^  '° 
Entranced  they  trod  a  painters'  paiadise. 
Where  color  wasted  by  the  Scituate  shore 
Between  the  changing  marshes  and  the  sea; 
They  heard  the  golden  voice  of  poesie 
l-ulhng  the  senses  with  its  last  caress 
a"  J«?,"ysonian  accents  pure  and  fine; 

t!;„     k  .  m'!"  '*"ir*'^  "«™  f"""  Beauty's  brow, 
Though  toUing  Reason  went  ungarlanded 


Then  poisonous  weeds  of  artifice  sprang  up. 

Defiling  Nature  at  her  sacred  source ; 

And  there  the  3uesting  World-soul  could  not  stay. 

Onward  must  journey  with  the  changing  time. 

To  come  to  this  uncouth  rebellious  age. 

Where  not  an  ancient  creed  nor  courtesy 

Is  underided,  and  each  demagogue 

Cries  some  new  nostrum  for  tlie  cure  of  ills. 

1 0-day  the  unreasoning  iconoclast 

Would  scoff  at  science  and  abolish  art, 

To  let  untutored  impulse  rule  the  world. 

41 


C*'J^'     Let  learning  perish,  and  the  race  returns 
J>mm!       To  that  first  anarchy  from  which  we  came, 
When  spirit  moved  upon  the  deep  and  laid 
The  primal  chaos  under  cosmic  law. 


And  even  now,  in  all  our  wilful  might, 
The  satiated  being  cannot  bide. 
But  to  that  austere  country  turns  again. 
The  little  province  of  the  saints  of  God, 
Where  lofty  peaks  rise  upward  to  the  stars 
From  the  gray  twilight  of  Gethsemane, 
And  spirit  dares  to  climb  with  wounded  feet 
Where  justice,  peace,  and  loving  kindness  are. 
What  says  the  fore  of  human  power  we  hold 
Through  all  these  striving  and  tumultuous  days .' 
"  Why  not  accept  each  several  bloom  of  gooa, 
Without  discardine  good  already  gained,. 
As  one  might  weed  a  garden  overgrown  — 
Save  the  new  shoots,  yet  not  destroy  the  old  ? 
Only  the  fool  would  root  up  his  whole  patch 
Of  fragrant  flowers,  to  plant  the  newer  seed." 


Ah,  softly,  brothers !    Have  we  not  the  key, 

Whose  first  fine  luminous  use  Plotinus  gave. 

Teaching  that  ecstasy  must  lead  the  man  ? 

Three  things,  we  see,  men  in  this  life  require, 

(As  they  are  needed  in  the  universe): 

First  of  all  spirit,  energy,  or  love. 

The  soul  and  mainspring  of  created  things ; 

Next  wisdom,  knowledge,  culture,  discipline, 

To  guide  impetuous  spirit  to  its  goal ; 

And  lastly  strength,  the  sound  apt  instrument. 

Adjusted  and  controlled  to  lawful  needs. 

4* 


ShalU^flT™  i"'"''?'"  "•"■;  ^  °°e  '"'°»e  word 

II  li  ™?™™  the  primacy  of  soul, 

Hold  scholarship  in  her  high  guidine  place 

And  recognize  tSe  body's  equf?  right  ^       ' 

To  culture  such  as  it  has  never  known, 

In  power  and  beauty  serving  soul  and  mind. 

Inheritors  of  this  divine  ideal, 

sV,'n  ^^'^^V".  ^  ''"'  *'  *«"  »«  strong. 
Shall  know  what  common  manhood  may  become 
Regain  the  gladness  of  the  sons  of  morn  ' 

1  he  radiance  of  immortality. 

AnH^iAl™'*'  wanderings  of  the  past. 
And  all  the  wayward  gropings  of  our  time 

ThTr.^T'*  ^^  '^"'i'"'  """'"^""«d  Vdespair, 
The  messengers  of  such  a  hope  must  go: 
As  one  who  hears  far  off  before  the  dlwn, 
On  some  lone  trail  among  the  darkling  hilU, 
The  hermit  thrushes  in  the  paling  dusTc. 
And  at  the  omen  lifts  his  ey«  to  see 
Above  him,  with  its  silent  shafts  of  light, 
The  sunrise  kindUng  aU  the  peaks  wifli  fire 


PAi  Btia 

Kappa 

Potta. 


\\\ 


MOUNTAIN   GATEWAY. 

T  '^w?^  ?  "^^  "'"'■''  '  would  go  one  day, 
X    When  June  comes  back  and  all  ti,e  world 
once  more  ""•■u 

Is  glad  with  summer.    Deep  in  shade  it  lies 
A  mighhr  cleft  between  the  Cosoming  hi  Is 
A  cool  dim  gateway  to  the  mountain!'  heart. 
43 


t» 


A  AftntM- 
tain  Gait- 
way. 


On  either  side  the  wooded  slopes  come  down, 
Hemlock  and  beech  and  chestnut.    Here  and  there 
Through  the   deep   forest   laurel   spreads   and 

gleams, 
Pink-white  as  Daphne  in  her  loveliness. 
Among  the  sunlit  shadows  I  can  see 
That  still  perfection  from  the  world  withdrawn, 
As  if  the  wood-gods  had  arrested  there 
Immortal  beauty  in  her  breathless  flight. 


The  road  winds  in  from  the  broad  river-lands, 
Luring  the  happy  traveller  turn  by  turn 
Up  to  the  lofty  mountains  of  the  sky. 
And  as  he  marches  with  uplifted  face. 
Far  overhead  against  the  arching  blue 
Gray  ledges  overhang  from  dizzy  heights, 
Scarred  By  a  thousand  winters  and  untamed. 


^.' 


And  where  the  road  runs  in  the  valley's  foot, 
Through  the  dark  woods  a  mountain  stream  comes 

down. 
Singing  and  dancing  all  its  youth  away 
Among  the  boulders  and  the  shallow  runs, 
Where  sunbeams  pierce  and  mossy  tree  trunks 

hang 
Drenched  all  day  long  with  murmuring  sound  and 

spray. 


There  light  of  heart  and  footfree,  I  would  go 
Up  to  my  home  among  the  lasting  hills. 
Nearing  the  day's  end,  I  would  leave  the  road. 
Turn  to  the  left  and  take  the  steeper  trail 
That  climbs  among  the  hemlocks,  and  at  last 
In  my  own  cabin  doorway  sit  me  down, 

44 


Companioned  in  that  leafy  solitude  A  M,m„. 

By  the  wood  ghosts  of  twilight  and  of  peace     '"''  ''""" 
While  evening  passes  to  absolve  the  day       '    ""•'■ 
And  leave  the  tranquil  mountains  to  the  stars. 

And  in  that  sweet  seclusion  I  should  hear, 
Among  the  cool-leafed  beeches  in  the  dusk, 
The  calm-voiced  thrushes  at  their  twilight  hymn 
So  undistrau|[ht,  so  rapturous,  so  pure, 
J  hey  well  might  be,  in  wisdom  and  in  joy, 
The  seraphs  singing  at  the  birth  of  time 
The  unworn  ritual  of  eternal  things. 


THE    HOMESTEAD. 

HERE  we  came  when  love  was  younc. 
Now  that  love  is  old. 
Shall  we  leave  the  floor  unswept 
And  the  hearth  acold? 

Here  the  hill-wind  in  the  dusk, 
Wandering  to  and  fro. 
Moves  the  moonflowers,  like  a  ghost 
Of  the  long  ago. 

Here  from  every  doorway  looks 
A  remembered  face. 
Every  sill  and  panel  wears 
A  familiar  grace. 

Let  the  windows  smile  again 
To  the  morning  light, 
And  the  door  stand  open  wide 
When  the  moon  is  bright 

4S 


v\ 


if 


T*4  Let  the  breeze  of  twilight  blow 

*"""*^    Through  the  silent  hall, 

And  the  dreaming  rafters  hear 
How  the  thrushes  call. 


Oh,  be  merciful  and  fond 
To  the  house  that  gave 
All  its  best  to  shelter  love, 
Built  when  love  was  brave  I 


Here  we  came  when  love  was  young. 
Now  that  love  is  old, 
Never  let  its  day  be  lone, 
Nor  its  heart  acold  I 


AT  SUNRISE. 

NOW  the  stars  have  faded 
In  the  purple  chill, 
Lo,  the  sun  is  kindling 
On  the  eastern  hill. 

Tree  by  tree  the  forest 
Takes  the  golden  tinge, 
As  the  shafts  of  glory 
Pierce  the  summit's  fringe. 

Rock  by  rock  the  ledges 
Take  the  rosy  sheen, 
As  the  tide  of  splendor 
Floods  the  dark  ravine. 


46 


Like  a  shining  angel 
At  my  cabin  door, 
Shod  with  hope  and  silence, 
Day  is  come  once  more. 

Then,  as  if  in  sorrow 
That  you  are  not  here, 
All  his  magic  beauties 
Gray  and  disappear. 


AlSumrlu. 


,   I 


AT  TWILIGHT. 

NOW  the  fire  is  lighted 
On  the  chimney  stone, 
Day  goes  down  tb  j  valley, 
I  am  left  alone. 

Now  the  misty  purple 
Floods  the  darkened  vale. 
And  the  stars  come  out 
On  the  twilight  trail. 

The  mountain  river  murmurs 
In  his  rocky  bed, 
And  the  stealthy  shadows 
Fill  the  house  with  dread. 

Then  I  hear  your  laughter 
At  the  open  door,  — 
Brightly  bums  the  fire, 
I  need  tear  no  more. 

47 


i 


m 


NIGHT  LYRIC. 

ON  the  world's  far  edges 
Faint  and  blue, 
Where  the  rocky  'edges 
Stand  in  view, 


Fades  the  rosy  tender 
Evening  light ; 
Then  in  starry  splendor 
Comes  the  night. 

So  a  stormy  lifetime 
Comes  to  close, 
Spirit's  mortal  strifetime 
Finds  repose. 

Faith  :>nd  toil  and  vision 
Ci  v^ned  at  last, 

allure  and  derision 
Overpast, — 

All  the  daylight  splendor 
Far  above, 

Calm  and  sure  and  tender 
Comes  thy  love. 


WEATHER  OF  THE  SOUL. 

THERE  is  a  world  of  being 
We  range  from  pole  to  pole, 
Through  seasons  of  the  spirit 
And  weather  of  the  soul. 
48 


It  has  its  new-bo.     Aprili, 
With  gladness  in  the  air, 
Its  golden  Junes  of  rapture, 
Its  winters  of  despair. 

And  in  its  tranquil  autumns 
We  halt  to  re-enforce 
Our  tattered  scarlet  pennons 
With  valor  and  resource. 

From  undiscovered  regions 
Only  the  angels  know, 
Great  winds  of  aspiration 
Perpetually  blow, 

To  free  the  sap  of  impulse 
From  torpor  of  distrust. 
And  into  flowers  of  joyance 
Quicken  the  sentient  dust. 

From  nowhere  of  a  sudden 
Loom  sudden  clouds  of  fault, 
With  thunders  of  oppression 
And  lightnings  of  revolt. 

With  hush  of  apprehension 
And  quaking  of  the  heart, 
There  breedthe  storms  of  anger. 
And  floods  of  sorrow  start. 


And  there  shall  fall,  —  how  gentiv '  — 
To  make  them  fertile  yet, 
The  rain  of  absolution 
On  acres  of  regret. 

49 


lltt  S<ml. 


M( 


'3 


a^^^    Till  snows  of  mercy  cover 

at  sml       ^jjg  j,jj„  that  shall  come  true, 

When  time  makes  all  things  wondrous, 
And  life  makes  all  things  new. 


WOODLAND  RAIN. 

SHINING,  shining  children 
Of  the  summer  rain, 
Racing  down  the  valley, 
Sweeping  o'er  the  plain  I 

Rushing  through  the  forest. 
Pelting  ou  the  leaves. 
Drenching  down  the  meadow 
With  its  standing  sheaves ; 

Robed  in  royal  silver. 
Girt  with  jewels  eay. 
With  a  gust  of  gladness 
You  pass  upon  your  way. 


I 


Fresh,  ah,  fresh  behind  you. 
Sunlit  and  iinpearled. 
As  it  was  in  Eden, 
Lies  the  lovely  world  I 


SO 


THE   TENT   OF   NOON. 

B^"u°i'°'  °°"'  "'■"'  ""  P^g*""*  of  high 
Halts  in  the  glowing  noon ! 

The  h?^l"'*'5'l*'*°"*  ■•«'  °°  P'^'n  and  hill  i 
i^he  bannered  hosts  are  still, 

fiSrsoniyTtixr""'""™""''^"^ 

J^^rofthfw'^^rld'Vfald''^'''-^"™^^^^ 

It  is  the  hour  when  Nature's  caravan. 
That  beara  the  pilgrim  Man  ' 

^1*/tl.Vend^ewSr.°'*^^'="' 

Rn..^°"'.¥V°u"P""  *"  ft-o™  despair 
Bom  with  the  breath  of  prayer  ? 

Then  turn  thee  to  the  lilfcd 'field once  more! 
God  stands  in  his  tent  door. 


I 


;|! 


S' 


I 


SUMMER  STORM. 

THE  hilltop  trees  are  bowing 
Under  the  coming  of  storm. 
The  low  gray  clouds  are  trailine 
Like  sauadrons  that  sweep  andform, 
With  their  ammunition  of  rain. 

Then  the  trumpeter  wind  gives  signal 
To  unlimber  the  viewless  guns  j 
The  cattle  huddle  together; 
Indoors  the  fanner  runs; 
And  the  first  shot  lashes  the  pane. 

They  charge  through  the  quiet  orchard; 
One  pear  tree  is  snapped  like  a  wand ; 
As  they  sweep  from  the  shattered  hillside, 
Ruffling  the  blackened  pond, 
En  the  sun  takes  the  field  again. 


DANCE   OF   THE   SUNBEAMS. 

WHEN  morning  is  high  o'er  the  hilltops, 
On  river  and  stream  and  lake, 
Wherever  a  young  breeze  whispers, 
The  sun-clad  dancers  wake. 

One  after  one  up-sprineing, 
They  flash  from  their  dim  retreat. 
Merry  as  running  laughter 
Is  the  news  of  their  twinkling  feet. 


ll'l; 


Over  the  floors  of  azure 

T&1%-  '"Pi°S.  »nd  racing,      *""• 
1  heir  antics  scatter  the  sun. 

As  long  as  water  ripples 

And  weather  is  clear  and  glad 

te''«''r  day  they  are  dafdng, 
•^  ever  a  moment  sad.  * 

But  when  through  the  field  of  heaven 
The  wm«  of  storm  take  flight,         " 

ihey  falter  and  slip  fi-om  sight. 

AstL''l"'^jr*y^7'»^''ding. 
As  the  squaJrons  of  cloud  retire 

^'':^^P«""  the  triumph  of  sunset 
With  banners  of  crimson  fire. 

"^"^^AMPFIRE   OF   THE   SUN 

Above  his  crimson  trail, 

The  surs  move  out  their  cordons  still  and  bright 

Asrarrthtr'-^""^" 

A„S  "'^"^'"ng  soul  has  rest, 
And  earth  receives  her  sacred  gift  of  sleep. 
53 


i'l 


4  I 


m 


I- 


MOONRISE. 

AT  the  'nd  of  the  road  through  the  wood 
I  see  the  great  moon  rise. 
The  fields  are  flooded  with  shine, 
And  my  soul  with  surmise. 

What  if  that  mystic  orb 
With  her  shadowy  beams, 
Should  be  the  revealer  at  last 
Of  my  darkest  dreams ! 

What  if  this  tender  fire 
In  my  heart's  deep  hold 
Should  be  wiser  than  all  tlie  lore 
Of  the  sages  of  old ! 


I 


THE   QUEEN   OF   NIGHT. 

MORTAL,  mortal,  have  you  seen 
In  the  scented  summer  night. 
Great  Astarte,  clad  in  green 
With  a  veil  of  mystic  light. 
Passing  on  her  silent  way. 
Pale  and  lovelier  than  day? 

Mortal,  mortal,  have  you  heard, 
On  an  odorous  summer  eve. 
Rumors  of  an  unknown  word 
Bidding  sorrow  not  to  grieve,  — 
Echoes  of  a  silver  voice 
Bidding  every  heart  rejoice? 

54 


':( 


Han«',^*"  '^  *'™  "e*  moon 

AnHThl  I  ^f"  '=°'""  ^und  <o  June 
And  the  leafy  world  is  still 

Sec»;,T'""'''''',>'°"  'hall  hear 
Secrets  for  a  poet's  ear. 

When  the  moon  is  rising  Jarce 
Through  the  wood  or  frfm  tfl'sea 
Or  by  some  lone  river  maTge  ' 

Bea;t;rse?f"'tSl;  ^"^  '^''^  '^^•'<"d 
■j^  s  seif,  that  grows  not  old. 


SUMMER  STREAMS 

A  "if  ?>'. '""?  beneath  the  sun 

J.  X     Shmmg  tlirough  the  fields  they  run, 

SlPfine'"  a  cadence  known 
io  the  seraphs  round  the  throne. 

tIII"'!*'?''*"*''  "'■•awing  near 
Through  the  meadow,  h^ts  to  hear 

Anthems  of  a  natural  joy 
No  disaster  can  destroy 

T!,'j!'*^'j."?"8f"""«tof8un 
Through  the  starty  woods  they  run. 

silSrf  """"^Sh  the  purple  dark 
Songs  to  make  a  traveller  hark 

55 


1/17^    *"  "'Sht  long,  when  winds  are  low, 
Underneath  my  window  go 

The  immortal  happy  streams, 
Making  music  through  my  dreams. 


THE   GOD   OF  THE   WOOD. 

HERE  all  the  forces  of  the  wood 
As  one  converge, 
To  make  the  soul  of  solitude 
Where  all  things  merge. 

The  sun,  the  rain-wind,  and  the  rain. 
The  visiting  moon, 

The  hurrying  cloud  by  peak  and  plain, 
Each  with  its  boon. 

Here  power  attains  perfection  still 
In  mighty  ease. 

That  the  great  earth  may  have  her  will 
Of  joy  and  peace. 

And  so  through  me,  the  mortal  born 
Of  plasmic  clay. 

Immortal  powers,  kind,  fierce,  forlorn, 
And  glad,  have  sway. 

Eternal  passions,  ardors  fine, 
And  monstrous  fears. 
Rule  and  rebel,  serene,  malign, 
Or  loosed  in  tears ; 

S6 


loSISi'l^l-- fin- revive. 


THE   GIFT. 

I  SAID  to  Life  "  Hn»,  ™ 
Win,  Wii  .!:• '    ""^  comes  it 
With  all  this  wea  th  in  stoi» 
Of  Ijeaut;^,  ov,  and  knowledge    ' 
Thy  cry  I's  still  for  more?       *' 

"Count  all  the  years  of  striving 
To  make  ,h    5^^^^  ks,,  _  "« 

?S'«telh;t^2-f'-''ioned 

Th^nKThir^;^,^^^^^^^ 

The  loot  of  all  the  ages,       ' 
The  spoil  of  all  the  sea^  I 

'n '■•''"*  °°  «"<^  of  labor, 
No  limit  to  thy  need? 

Must  man  go  towed  forever 
In  bondage  to  thy  greed?" 

With  tears  of  pride  and  passion 
She  answered:.' God  abC°° 
I  only  wait  the  asking, 
To  spend  it  all  for  love!" 

57 


THE  GIVERS  OF  LIFE. 

WHO  called  us  forth  out  of   darkness  and 
gave  us  the  gift  of  life, 

fie°ld  of  Zfe?"*'  '°  ""  '""'''«•  '""■  '*'*  '°  ""= 

^"sprifgs^^  *"''  °'  '''''^°'"'  8""ding  the  living 

'''sSipt^ow"'"'''''  ^"^'""^  """"Ker  or  hard- 
"A  not  old.  ""^'"  P"»P"'  ""«>  "«'  joy  '"-» 

""tide  o^NrbeicV"  "'"'"''"'•  *'~''«  "  *" 

°"4tes'"ind't'e\"r7  "'  '°"^''«'  °°'  "'  '"- 
'"th'^'wa.Snrye^y''  '"'^  """  ""■ '»  ""  -"> 


'^on'er;n''d°c"ht%rs1re'^^"^  *""'  '"'•'  =•""• 

^"tSei'/ee^desTrTsr'"  ™P"'"  '°  *'  "'"  "' 
58 


^c'^Z.r  ""  "^""^  "■•"'on  Of  .he  ..ernai  '""'"■ 

^pt\-X"'  ""='«'-^  '-.•„,  .he  ,ow 
aK^»t',°^  *•■'-«- out  of  the  dust 

business  to  do       ^  '°  '**"°'^'  having  God's 

S^We-^slar-''' -'^-n^' 

""ii^^flars-sr  "hT  "'  ^-«^-  -  -nd- 

"ftheT"""''  '°^^'^'  """"i-g  our  „an. 
m^ghloUer   "°"^"'^   6""y.  -aying  the 

'^Jn^d^Kn^dTairJ'^™"^'  -''  "o-,  modest 
sL'ct„°i/^^4:r''  "'  """«■  '='"«'>*  with  the 

''fe'f'^^;^''"-  of  sor^w,  they  were  our 
feely^bi™"  °'  "-"^d  'n  tne  heart  of 
59 


1 

1 

1 

■»1 

'■] 

^LM*"  Haloed  with  love  and  with  wonder,  in  gheltered 
"    '^'  ways  they  trod, 

Seers  of  sublime  divination,  keeping  the  truce  of 
God* 

4- 
Who  called  us  from  youth  and  dreaming,  and 

set  ambition  alight, 
And  made  us  fit  for  the  contest,  —  men,  by  their 

tender  rite  i" 

Sweethearts    above    our    merit,    charming    our 

strength  and  skill 
To  be  the  pride  of  their  loving,  to  be  the  means 

of  their  will. 

If  we  be  the  builders  of  beauty,  if  we  be  the 

masters  of  art, 
Theirs  were  the  gleaming  ideals,  theirs  the  uplift 

of  the  heart. 

Truly  they   measure  the  lightness  of  trappings 

and  ease  and  fame, 
For  the  teeming  desire  of  their  yeanu'ng  is  ever 

and  ever  the  same  : 

To  crown  their  lovers  with  gladness,  to  clothe 

their  sons  with  delight. 
And  see  the  men  of  their  making  lords  in  the 

best  man's  right 

Lavish  of  joy  and  labor,  broken  only  by  wrong, 
These  are  the  guardians  of  being,  spirited,  sen- 
tient and  strong. 

60 


I 


Their.  1.  the  .tar^r  vi.ion,  their,  the  in.piri,i„g  7>^o.„. 

hern-b/hSnlf"  °^ 'P'^dor,  and  ™ake  us  a 

„^dor„eet„"d  t^,  """  -''S'-S.  -  "-«- 
But  the  women  who  went  »n  fn.,„j  .i. 
never  counted  at  all  ""'"'  ""■"  "« 

Versed  in  the  soul',  traditions,  skilled  in  humanity's 

'"th^s^'of'a^':"'  "»'"'  "f-P'-e.  and  weep  for 

^  was'fn-ti^e  tt>  o^d™^^ ^  "^  '''-PO'-  «  ■' 
Vof  p^af/e""  °'  ""<"•  ""'^  »  ""'•  "e^-rten. 

■"domarn7ol"sta™^^  °'  '""«'''""'  '"=y'>'"»  «"« 
Martyrs  of  all  men's  folly,  over-rulers  of  fate. 

^s'e^teTndtfe'nT  ^'  '°'"'''  '"»=  -  -" 
"■havrfn'^e^df^"''"'  "^'"-'  ""  -'"™  ^hal, 
6i 


I 


6. 

I/*i3r"  ''"'?'»,]■  •'"*  ^o***  unwritten,  this  is  the  creed  we 
hold. 

Guarding  the  little  and  lonely,  gladdening  the 
helpless  and  old,—  * 

Apart  from  the  brunt  of  the  battle  our  wondrous 

women  shall  bide, 
For  the  sake  of  a  tranquil  wisdom  and  the  need 

of  a  spirit's  guide. 

Come  they  into  as  iibly,  or  keep  they  another 
door. 

Our  makers  of  life  shall  lighten  the  days  as  the 
yeaiB  of  yore.  ' 

The  lure  of  their  laughter  shall  lead  us,  the  lilt 

of  their  words  shall  sway. 
Though   life  and  death  should  defeat  us,  their 

solace  shall  be  our  stay. 

Veiled  in  mysterious  beauty,  vested  in  magical 
grace,  ** 

They  have  walked  with  angels  at  twilight  and 
looked  upon  glory's  face. 

Life  we  will  give  for  their  safety,  care  for  their 

fruitful  ease, 
Though  we  break  at  the  toiling  benches  or  go 

down  in  the  smoky  seas. 

This  is  the  gospel  appointed  to  govern  a  world 
of  men, 

Till  love  has  died,  and  the  echoes  have  whis- 
pered the  last  Amen. 

62 


m 


IN 


ITFIK   DAY   OF  BATTr  p 
N  the  day  of  battle,        '-^• 
In  the  night  of  dread. 
Let  one  hymn  be  lifted, 
i-et  one  prayer  be  said. 

Not  for  pride  of  conquest, 
J^°    °'/^ngeance  wrought, 

Kstt  rugii?;' 

S"''/i°rf='i'H  in  freedom. 

Born  of  dreams  and  dariW 
Bred  above  dismay.  *' 


'  .1 


PEACE. 

T"r  ?'"P'!."8  «"■>  's  dark 
Sav,>  l^^V^'  ""^^d  hill. 
Th?/  rl"  *'°"'"'S  sounds, 
The  twiht  world  gfows  stiU. 

And  I  am  left  to  muse 
in  grave-eyed  mystery, 
And  watch  the  stars  come  out 
As  sandalled  dusk  goes  by 
63 


I 


ii 


And  now  the  light  is  gone, 
The  drowsy  murmurs  cease, 
And  through  the  still  unknown 
1  wonder  whence  comes  peace. 

Then  softly  falls  the  word 
Of  one  beyond  a  name, 
"  Peace  only  comes  to  him 
Who  guards  his  life  from  shame, - 

"  Who  gives  his  heart  to  love. 
And  holding  truth  for  guide, 
Girds  him  with  fearless  strength, 
That  freedom  may  abide," 


TREES. 

TN  the  Garden  of  Eden,  planted  by  God, 
There  were  goodly  trees  in  the  springing 
sod,  — 


r 


Trees  of  beauty  and  height  and  grace, 
To  stand  in  splendor  before  His  face. 

Apple  and  hickory,  ash  and  pear, 
Oak  and  beech  and  the  tulip  rare, 

The  trembling  aspen,   "le  noble  pine, 
The  sweeping  elm  by  the  river  line ; 

Trees  for  tlie  birds  to  build  and  sing, 
And  the  lilac  tree  for  a  joy  in  spring; 
64 


Trees  to  turn  at  the  frosty  call  r 

And  carpet  the  ground  folr  their  Lord's  footfall , 

Trees  for  the  cunning  builder's  trade  j 

1  ne  keel  and  the  mast  of  the  daring  sail ; 

He  made  thetn  of  every  grain  and  girth 
For  the  use  of  man  in  the  Garden  of  Earth. 

Then  lest  the  soul  should  not  lift  her  eves 
From  the  gift  to  the  Giver  of  ParadTse? 

God  planted  a  scarlet  maple  tree. 


IN  OCTOBER. 

TVrOW  come  the  rosy  dogwoods, 
r  J   u        8°''Je''  tulip-tree. 
And  the  scarlet  yellow  maple. 
To  make  a  day  for  me. 

The  ash-trees  on  the  ridges. 
The  alders  in  the  swamp, 
Put  on  their  red  and  purple 
To  join  the  autumn  pomp. 

The  woodbine  hangs  her  crimson 
Along  the  pasture  wall, 
And  all  the  bannered  sumacs 
Have  heard  the  frosty  call 

6S 


/»  OcMtr.     Who  then  so  dead  to  valor 
As  not  to  raise  a  cheer. 
When  all  the  woods  are  marching 
In  triumph  of  the  year? 


'  !f 


FIRESIDE  VISION. 

ONCE  I  walked  the  world  enchanted 
Through  the  scented  woods  of  spring, 
Hand  in  hand  with  Love,  in  rapture 
Just  to  hear  a  bluebird  sing. 

Now  the  lonely  winds  of  autumn 
Moan  about  my  gusty  eaves. 
As  I  sit  lieside  the  fire 
Listening  to  the  flying  leaves. 

As  the  dying  embers  settle 
And  the  twilight  falls  apace, 
Through  the  gloom  1  see  a  vision 
Full  of  ardor,  full  of  grace. 

When  the  Architect  of  Beauty 
Breathed  the  lyric  soul  in  man, 
Lo,  the  being  that  he  fashioned 
Was  of  Guch  a  mould  and  plan  I 

Bravely  throogh  the  deepening  shadows 
Moves  that  figure  half  divine, 
With  its  tenderness  of  bearing, 
With  its  dignity  of  line. 


M^!  .1!     ■u^'""°°'' on  «lie  hill.  ''».!».. 

Mouth  with  traces  of  God'<  h.!m„. 

In  its  corners  lurking  S 


THE   BLUE    HERON. 

r  SEE  the  great  blue  heron 

f;?°"°»'.'ng  down  the  wind, 

i^Ht^  gliding  sail 

With  the  set  of  the  stream. 

I  hear  the  two-horse  mower 
Clacking  ^^        ,^g  ^ 

i"?f,^"'.°f?Julyn^n, 
And  the  driver's  voice 
As  he  turns  his  team. 

I  see  the  meadow  lilies 
Flecked  with  their  darker  tan 
IndtelJl'/^'-whft-e'clouds; 
Is  a  passing  dream. 

67 


WINTER   PIECE. 

OVER  the  rim  of  a  lacquered  bowl, 
Where  a  cold  blue  water-color  stands, 
I  see  the  wintry  breakers  roll 
And  heave  their  froth  up  the  freezing  sands. 

Here  in  immunity  safe  and  dull, 

Soul  treads  her  circuit  of  trivial  things. 

There  soul's  brother,  a  shining  gull. 

Dares  the  rough  weather  on  dauntless  wings. 


THE  GHOST-YARD  OF  THE  GOLDENROD. 

WHEN  the  first  silent  frost  has  trod 
The  ghost-yard  of  the  goldenrod, 

And  laid  the  blight  of  his  cold  hand 
Upon  the  warm  autumnal  land, 

And  all  things  wait  the  subtle  change 
That  men  call  death,  is  it  not  strange 

That  I  — without  a  care  or  need. 
Who  only  am  an  idle  weed  — 

Should  wait  unmoved,  so  frail,  s:j  bold. 
The  coming  of  the  final  cold ! 


68 


BEFORE   THE   SNOW. 

N^^u^T-  '■''  ^"J'  soo"'  I  ''now 
Anrf  ,J      •^""Pe's  of  "le  north  will  blow, 
And  the  great  winds  will  come  to  bring 
The  pale  wild  nders  of  the  snow. 

Darkening  the  sun  with  level  flight. 
At  arrowy  speed,  they  will  alight, 
Unnumbered  as  the  tfesert  sands 
To  bivouac  on  the  edge  of  night. 

Then  I,  within  their  somber  ring, 
Shall  hear  a  voice  that  seems  to  sin-r, 
Deep,  deep  within  my  tranquil  heart, 
The  valiant  prophecy  of  spring 


WINTER   TWILIGHT. 

ALONG  the  wintry  skyline. 
Crowning  the  rocky  crest, 
Mands  the  bare  screen  of  hardwood  trees 
Against  the  saffron  west,  — 
Its  gray  and  purple  network 
Of  branching  tracery 
Outspread  upon  the  lucent  air, 
Like  weed  within  the  sea. 

The  scarlet  robe  of  autumn 
Renounced  and  put  away. 
The  mystic  Earth  is  fairer  still,— 
A  Puritan  in  gray. 
The  spirit  of  the  winter. 
How  tender,  how  austere ' 
Yet  all  the  ardor  of  the  spring 
And  summer's  d.eam  arc  here. 


iritiitr      Fear  not,  O  timid  lover, 
nvU^Mt.   ^he  touch  of  frost  and  rime ! 

This  is  the  virtue  that  sustained 
The  roses  in  their  prime. 
The  anthem  of  the  northwind 
Shall  hallow  thy  despair. 
The  benediction  of  the  snow 
Be  answer  to  thy  prayer. 

And  now  the  star  of  evening 
That  is  the  pilgrim's  sign. 
Is  lighted  in  the  primrose  dusk,  — 
A  lamp  before  a  shrine. 
Peace  fills  the  mighty  minster, 
Tranquil  and  gray  and  old, 
And  all  the  chancel  of  the  west 
Is  bright  with  paling  gold. 

A  little  wind  goes  sifting 

Along  the  meadow  floor,  — 

Like  steps  of  lovely  penitents 

Who  sighingly  adore. 

Then  falls  the  twilight  curtain, 

And  fades  the  eerie  light. 

And  frost  and  silence  turn  the  keys 

In  the  great  doors  of  night. 


CHRISTMAS   EVE   CHORAL. 
ZJALLELUJA  ! 

■*■*  What  sound  is  this  across  the  dark 
While  all  the  earth  is  sleeping  f  Hark  ! 
Halleluja!    Halleluja!    Halleluja! 

70 


Why  are  thy  tender  eyes  so  bright, 
Maiy,  Mary?  *    ' 

On  the  prophetic  deep  of  night 
Joseph,  Joseph,  * 

I  see  the  borders  of  the  light. 
And  in  the  day  that  is  to  be 
An  aureoled  man-child  I  see 
Great  love's  son,  Joseph. 

Halltluja  ! 

He  hears  net,  but  she  hear,  afar. 
The  Minstrel  Angel  of  the  star. 
HalUluja!   Hallelujat   HalUluja! 

Why  is  thy  gentle  smile  so  deep, 
Mary,  Mary?  '^' 

It  is  the  secret  I  must  keep, 
JoseiJh,  Joseph,  — 
The  joy  that  will  not  let  me  sleep, 
«,u  S'^V  °f  ""^  coming  days. 
When  alf  the  world  shJl  turn  to  praise 
God's  goodness,  Joseph. 

HalUluja  / 

Clear  as  the  bird  that  brings  the  mom 
^He  hears  the  heavenly  music  borne. 
Halleluja!   Halleluja.'  Halleluja/ 

Why  is  thy  radiant  face  so  calm, 
Mary,  Mary?  ' 

His  strength  is  like  a  royal  palm, 
Joseph,  Joseph ; 
His  beauty  like  the  victor's  psalm, 

a^h"!?""  !*u  "".ora'ng  o'er  the  lands 
And  there  is  healing  in  his  hands 
for  sorrow,  Joseph. 

71 


A  CAruh 


MCkrui-  Halltlvja/ 

5^    Tendf' as  drohfall  on  the  tarth 

She  hears  the  choral  of  love's  birth. 

Hallelujal   Hallelujal   Halleluja/ 

What  is  the  meuage  come  to  thee, 

Mary,  Mary? 

I  hear  like  wind  within  the  tree, 

Joseph, Joseph, 

Or  like  a  far-off  mei.    j 

His  deathless  voic    i  raclaiming  peace. 

And  bidding  ruttil :;  .^  wrong  to  cease, 

For  love's  sake,  j .  jeph. 


Halleluja  / 

Moving  as  rain-wind  in  the  spring 
She  hears  the  angel  chorus  ring. 
HalUlujat   Hallelujal   Hallelujal 

Why  are  thy  patient  hands  so  still, 

Mary,  Mary? 

I  see  the  shadow  on  the  hill, 

Joseph,  Joseph, 

And  wonder  if  it  is  God's  will 

That  courage,  ser\'ice,  and  glad  youth 

Shall  perish  in  the  cause  of  truth 

Forever,  Joseph. 


Halleluja; 

Her  heart  in  that  celestial  chime 
Has  heard  the  harmony  of  time. 
Halleluja!    Halleluja/   Halleluja.' 

7». 


Wto'"  "  """«'  ""d  far.   .^*ru. 

I  see  the  glorv  of  the  sur,  '^*'^ 

Joseph,  Joseph, 

And  in  its  light  all  things  that  are 
Of  h""  fi^''  ^J""  *'■»«  beyond  the  5wav 
In  God's  time,  Joseph.        "'*""y> 
HalUluja  / 
To  nitry  heart  in  love  U  is  given 

A     It  happened  long  of  yore. 

Flushes  the  desert  floor, 
That  three  Icings  sat  together 
And  a  spearman  kept  the  door. 

Caspar,  whose  wealth  was  counted 
By  city  and  caravan ;  ° 

With  kelchior,  the  ier 
r?°,^*?.'i«'e  starry  plan; 
^^„?a'*asar,  the  blame  ess, 
Who  loved  his  fellow  man. 

TTiere  while  they  talked,  a  sudden 
Srang.  rushing  sound  arose. 
And  as  with  startled  faces 

ihree  figuies  stood  before  them 
In  imperial  repose. 

73 


riu  SiU-  One  in  flame-gold  and  one  in  blue 
J5f«f  ***   And  one  in  scarlet  clear, 
^^        With  the  almighty  portent 
Of  sunrise  they  drew  near  I 
And  the  kings  made  obeisance 
With  hand  on  breast,  in  fear. 

"Arise,"  said  they,  "we  bring  you 
Goixl  tidings  of  ^eat  peace  I 
To<lay  a  power  is  wakened 
Whose  working  must  increase, 
Till  fear  and  greed  and  malice 
And  violence  shall  cease." 

The  messengers  were  Michael, 
By  whom  all  things  are  wrought 
To  shape  and  hue ;  and  Gabriel 
Who  is  the  lord  of  thought; 
And  Rafael  without  whose  love 
All  toil  must  come  to  nought. 

Then  Rafael  said  to  Balthasar, 
"  In  a  country  west  from  here 
A  lord  is  bom  in  lowliness. 
In  love  without  a  peer. 
Take  grievances  and  gifts  to  him 
And  prove  his  kingship  clear ! 

"  By  this  sign  ye  shall  know  himj 
Within  his  mother's  arm 
Among  the  sweet-breathed  cattle 
He  slumbers  without  harm, 
While  wicked  hearts  are  troubled 
And  tyrants  take  alarm." 

74 


And  Gabriel  aaid  to  Melchior, 
"  My  comrade,  I  will  send 
My  star  to  go  before  you, 
That  ye  may  comprehend 
Where  leads  your  mystic  learning 
In  a  humaner  trend." 


TluStn*- 


And  Michael  said  to  Caspar, 
"  Thou  royal  builder,  go 
With  tribute  of  thy  riclies ! 
Though  time  shall  overthrow 
Thy  kingdom,  no  undoing 
His  gentle  might  shall  know." 

InS"  nl''  *u'  ''L°8»'  hearts  greatened 

And  all  the  chamber  shone, 

As  when  the  hills  at  sundown 

Take  a  new  glory  on 

And  the  air  thrills  with  purple, 

Their  visitors  were  gone. 

Then  straightway  up  rose  Caspar. 

Melchior  and  Balthasar, 

And  passed  out  through  the  murmur 

Of  palace  and  bazar, 

To  make  without  misgiving 

The  journey  of  the  Star. 


75 


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CHRISTMAS  SONG. 

ABOVE  the  weary  waiting  world, 
.     Asleep  in  chill  despair, 
There  breaks  a  sound  of  joyous  bells 
Upon  the  frosted  air. 
And  o'er  the  humblest  roottree,  lo, 
A  star  is  dancing  on  the  snow. 

What  makes  the  yellow  star  to  dance 

Upon  the  brink  of  night  ? 

What  makes  the  breaking  dawn  to  glow 

So  magically  bright,  — 

And  aU  the  earth  to  be  renewed 

With  infinite  beatitude  ? 

The  singing  bells,  the  throbbing  sUr, 

The  sunbeams  on  the  snow, 

And  the  awakening  heart  that  leaps 

New  ecstasy  to  know,  — 

They  all  are  dancing  in  the  mom 

Because  a  little  child  is  born. 


N^ 


WINTER  STREAMS. 

TOW  the  little  rivers  eo 

Muffled  safely  under  snow, 

And  the  winding  meadow  streams 
Murmur  in  their  wintry  dreams. 

While  a  tinkling  music  wells 
Faintly  from  their  icy  bells. 

Telling  how  their  hearts  are  bold 
Though  the  very  sun  be  cold. 

76 


Ah,  but  wait  until  the  rain 
Comes  a-sighiqgonce  again, 
Sweeping  softlv  from  the  Sound 
Over  ridge  and  meadow  ground ! 

AnSV.'^ir""'/'  '*"""»  """  hear 
April  calhng  far  and  near,  — 

fnfir"''  -""r  ^^"^  and  run 
Sparlding  in  the  welcome  sun. 


Streamt. 


11 


I 


NOW  rui'.  Li<N(;i 

TINTS   OF    LAV!  N- 
ANDTH!':  MARSHY 

vvhh  THi-  PlP^:Rs^ 

NOW    THI-:    SOLI- 
LAYS  A   PATH    ON 
AND    1     KNOW   M 
TO     THK     OPLNH 


LORD    OF    APRIL 
MAY      PHE     DOCH 
AND     MY    ANGF.L 
OF  SPRING   TW! 


K)l.i-  -TARV    SIAK 

[    ON    -MEADOW    SJ  RKAMS, 

V   11    -IS    NOr    FAR 

IMiiN    -DOOR   OF    DRKAMS. 


-HFNiNt;    rw 

■Dl'R  A.\n  (.OLD,   I  HOLD 

■PLAClvS    RISC 

OF    IHr;   SI'RINC;. 


'RIL; 

DOG 
Gl.L 
TW 


IN   MY    HOUR 
WOOD    HI-:    IN    FLOVVl'lR, 
•rHROUf.'H     THi:    DO.XU': 
LICHL    L1.:\D    ML    HOMl-;! 


